Labyrinth
by Glittering Pegasus
Summary: Wilson's left. House wants him back. [Slash] [Angst Warning]


**Title:** Labyrinth  
**Author:** Dani C. (mystictwilight)  
**Pairing:** House/Wilson  
**Summary:** Wilson's left. House wants him back. Angst warning.  
**Rating:** PG  
**Author's Note: **I really have no idea where this came from. Seriously. None. I was trying to force myself to write a college essay and finish AP Gov homework and suddenly… I was writing fic. My muse has the worst timing ever. But hey, I won't complain. It's been months since I've experienced the thrill of a finished fic. Thank you Penny (savemoony) my dear, for beta-ing at 2 in the morning. You're the best. :-)

"I want you to come back."

The statement was filled with such sincerity that Wilson couldn't believe it really came from House. "House-"

"Your new place can't possibly offer the same luxuries as mine: food, piano, great sex."

"The food was my doing."

House quirked an eyebrow. "_That's _the claim you're choosing to dispute?"

Wilson smirked, but the humor didn't quite reach his eyes. After a pause, he said, "House, I would if I could."

"It was stupid of you to leave in the first place. We agreed to stay in this for the kids. Ally, Bobby, and Eric can't grow up without a mommy – unless you're willing to pay child support for the rest of your–" House stopped suddenly, seeing the weariness in Wilson's eyes. He tapped his cane against the floor and pressed down on it. "Please come back," he said, quietly.

"You know I can't do that."

House sighed, "Yeah."

"I'm sorry."

"You always are."

More tapping. More silence. The heaviness growing in the air and the sharp throbbing in House's leg somehow took up residence in his heart. "Why couldn't it have been cancer?" he finally asked, desperately grasping for any tone that even slightly resembled lightheartedness. "Would have been much more amusing if it had been cancer. Alanis would have appreciated that. I obviously overestimated your sense of humor."

"Nothing funnier than cancer," Wilson nodded and nearly succeeded in concealing the break in his voice. "I'll try harder not to let you down next time."

"Damn straight," House scoffed, "A damn car accident. What were you thinking? Not even a cool car accident like driving off the Trenton Makes Bridge in an exploding fireball. What the hell type of moron goes and gets a semi plowed into him? Honestly, Jimmy, how did I waste over a decade with you?"

"No one else was going to back up your crippled ass."

"It is notmy _ass_ that's crippled, thank you. You of all people should be well aware."

Wilson rolled his eyes and sighed. House noticed that his face was beginning to lose color. Wilson apparently knew it too. "I can't stay much longer."

"Little Jimmy gonna get grounded for staying out past curfew?"

He shrugged sheepishly. "They're pretty strict up there. If I'm not good, I might get my wings clipped."

Wilson faded more rapidly now. House saw a glimmer of red from his mug on the table behind Wilson. Shakily, reached out for Wilson, but as expected, the hand only felt like fog. "God, I wish I could touch you," he breathed.

With sorrow, Wilson nodded and looked at him. "Me too."

"I really miss you, Jimmy."

"I know."

"You shouldn't have left me."

"I'm sorry."

"I um…" House stopped, nearly laughing at the notion; he never had the courage to say it when Wilson was right there, solid and breathing, in front of him. So, why should – could – he say it now?

Wilson didn't seem to mind House's silence. His transparent form leaned forward and, though House couldn't feel the warm skin, he knew Wilson's lips met his. "I've got to go now," he said as he moved away.

House nodded. "I'll um… I'll see you soon."

"No," Wilson disagreed, "You won't. I'll beat your ass with my harp if you even think about it."

"You don't have a harp."

"Fifty bucks?"

"No man on earth or in Heaven would ever give your tone-deaf ass a musical instrument."

"Don't give me a reason to prove you wrong."

House somehow found it in him to meet Wilson's eyes; he met them with a silent promise. Wilson nodded, satisfied.

"Goodbye, House."

House lifted his cane in response, unable to articulate the meaning of the gesture. "Put in a good word for me."

Wilson smirked. "It's going to take me years to clear your name with the men upstairs."

"What does the seventh commandment say again?"

"Screw you."

House scoffed, "In that case, it's no wonder they let you in. You managed to observe that one every night."

"Bye, House," Wilson smiled, though it was hard to tell, as there wasn't much left of his face. His eyes though, which were the most solid feature left, lit up. "I love you."

His eyes flickered, and he was gone. House blinked at the empty air before him, the words still resounding in his brain. Words he'd never return out loud – words he'd never allot to anyone again.

For once in his life, House realized as he slumped into his couch and shut his eyes to block out the oncoming migraine, Wilson had been wrong:

House could never fly too close to the sun. Weak, exhausted, and painfully alone, he'd never make it out of the labyrinth.


End file.
